


Forging Ties

by CherryFlamingo



Category: SPY x FAMILY (Manga)
Genre: Angst, Anya has BDE You've been warned, Blackmail, Character Development, Character Development for everyone except Anya cuz everyday is Character Development Day for her, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Fake Character Death, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gen, Guilt, Humor, Parent-Child Relationship, Secret Identity, fake identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26724985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryFlamingo/pseuds/CherryFlamingo
Summary: Loid goes out to buy milk.He’ll be back. He promised, didn’t he?Alternatively: In which Anya blackmails Twilight to stay with the Forgers under the guise of a new identity. If he thinks he can leave after changing their lives forever, he’s got another thing coming.
Relationships: Anya Forger & Loid Forger | Twilight, Anya Forger & Loid Forger | Twilight & Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess, Anya Forger & Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess, Loid Forger | Twilight/Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess, Yuri Briar & Anya Forger
Comments: 54
Kudos: 96





	1. Leaving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting this off with a 2-chapter publication. Hope you enjoy reading this!
> 
> Published 09/30/2020

** Chapter 1: Leaving **

He’s gotten soft and he hadn’t even realized it. By the apartment entranceway, there are shoes strewn about– a colorful, uneven mosaic of footwear. Above the half-empty shoe cabinets are incomplete checklists and half-read mail with a bowl of keys, each ring adorned with a penguin.

There are signs a child lived in the apartment. Walls that were once pristine and spotless were now smudged with tiny handprints. Hand-drawn pictures of a happy family hung on the fridge door, held up by magnets brought from local trips. There are more types of cups than there are homogenous sets of the same, elegant china Loid Forger had originally bought for his household.

Loid’s hair is combed less often on days away from the hospital. His posture had always been perfect, and it still is, but there’s an uncontracted calmness that spills from his every movement, emanating a warmth that had been previously absent.

He’s happier, too, and anyone who’s observed him as diligently as Nightfall would note the undeniable glint in his eyes with every perfected smile; the occasional touches he shared with his fake wife that lingered just _a bit_ too long; the miniscule hesitation every time his fake daughter left for school– _will she be okay?_

This madness needs to end.

With as much glee as she allows herself to feel, Nightfall hands Loid Forger his last assignment from WISE one fall morning at the Berlint General Hospital.

Loid’s breath hitches for a millisecond before he reverts his attention back to Nightfall and nods, face impassive but knowing. This is an order from WISE’s higher echelons, and he is in no position to deny what was expected of him for the sake of peace between Westalis and Ostania.

It is natural for a secret agent to form relationships through every persona. Each relationship needs some semblance of trust and good faith to further build upon or extract information from. But to allow his relations to impact his efficiency and impartiality? Unacceptable.

So Loid ignores the voice in the back of his mind begging him to stay with Yor and Anya and dons his hat.

“I’m going out for milk,” He effortlessly smiles despite the twinge in his chest. Lying had always been so easy for him. _I need to leave now or else I’ll never do it._

“Pa, I’ll go with you!” Anya immediately crawls up from the television set, something she seldom did when a new episode of _Bondman_ was playing. Bond the dog is quick to follow her. “I wanna go with you!”

“You can’t.” Loid states almost too quickly. “I also need to visit the hospital, and I don’t know when I’ll be done.”

“No! I wanna, I wanna, I wanna!” Anya is stamping her feet now, like the child she actually is. Loid can’t help but feel some relief on the inside. Once he’s gone, she can finally go back to living her life as a carefree child in this new era of peace.

“What’s going on here?” Yor comes out of the kitchen as she wipes her hands with the dish towel. Loid’s immediate attention goes to Yor. Something about her made the room light up every time he sees her. He tries not to linger on the thought. “Loid’s just going out and coming back.”

“No!” Anya looks increasingly desperate as she hugs Loid’s leg. “It’s…it’s not safe out there! I need to protect Pa!”

Loid sighs before stooping down to Anya’s eye level and giving her his most reassuring smile. “Anya, you need to understand that I have a job to do. I’m just going to the hospital and then the store to pick up some milk. I promise to be back.”

“You promise?” Anya furrows her eyebrows. “Pinky promise?”

“Yes,” Loid smiles, his mind blank from ignoring the twist in his chest. “I promise.”

That seems to satisfy Anya, who beams up at the man who adopted her from a life of uncertainty. A pinky promise was considered sacred and unbreachable, only broken by death ....or the prospect of a hamburger dinner.

Loid steps out of the apartment and makes his way down the wooden stairs. He grits his teeth. There’s no turning back now.

He can imagine it now. Yor becoming a widow the moment WISE’s agents knock on the door. Her hands covering her face as news of Loid Forger’s untimely death is transmitted to the Forger family’s two remaining members. Anya’s big angry tears trailing down her cherubic face as she hugs her fake mama for comfort. Bond pawing at her as he tries to cheer her up.

Loid crosses the street as the lights turn. Yor and Anya…they’ve already lost their family once before. Would they be able to handle this second wave of trauma?

Loid pauses in the middle of his next step.

No, he shakes his head. He couldn’t just leave so simply. He wants to see if they’ll be alright once he’s out of the picture. He _needs_ to be certain they can survive on their own before he truly leaves. Yor is an awful cook and Anya is a growing girl. While the blonde man is certain WISE will take good care of Yor and Anya once he is gone, he cannot help the budding worry at the prospect a new threat will be introduced into to their lives, like a new man.

The idea unsettles him more than he likes to admit. Yor and Anya are good people who can easily be tricked by anyone. This isn’t to say they’re stupid. On the contrary, they were two incredibly intuitive individuals Loid had several brushes of exposing his true identity, but they were also quick to bring others into their lives with open arms.

His fists tighten until there are crescent shaped marks in his calloused palms. It is not often Twilight the spy feels so stranded when the objective is so clear.

Loid makes his way to the nearest phone booth and schedules an immediate meeting with his handler in Code F. “ _Connect me to Handler_ ,” he spells out. “ _This is Twilight.”_

Immediately, he hears a click. “Good morning, Twilight, or should I say good evening? What seems to be the issue?”

“ _I need to go back_ ,” Twilight spells out, “ _For at least one last time. I need to make sure that Operation Strix remains a success and no news of its existence ever reaches the SSS_.”

“What brought this on? We’ve already established that Operation Strix was a success and peace has been stabilized.”

“ _Yes, that’s correct. Forger will be retired by this afternoon, but we still need to make sure Yor Forger will not instate any sort of suspicion in her brother, Yuri Briar, who is in the SSS. This is crucial._ ” Twilight stresses, brows furrowing and eyes crystal clear.

“Twilight, are you certain you will hold your emotions back?”

Twilight’s face, usually so impassive, is set with determination. He ignores Handler’s lapse of belief in him and instead reaffirms his decision. “ _Yes, to ensure that Operation Strix remains a success, I need to make sure there are no loose threads with what remains of the Forger unit._ ” He is grasping for straws, and Sylvia knows this. He has already done so much for East-West relations. The least WISE can do is entertain his request.

Sylvia gives a pregnant pause before relenting, her lips stretching into a small sardonic smile. “Very well, but remember,” Twilight can imagine Sylvia’s irises contracting under the brim of her hat as she speaks, “to make it quick. We’re meant to stay in the shadows. The day you threw away your original identity was the day you committed to a life devoid of civil pleasures.”

“ _Yes, Handler,_ ” Twilight codes before he hangs up, a bead of sweat he wasn’t aware of sliding down his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any review or kudos would be greatly appreciated. They're fabulous encouragement! :)


	2. Blackmail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare yourself for the amount of BDE Anya has. You’ve been warned.
> 
> Published 09/30/2020

** Chapter 2: Blackmail **

“Hmm, this is unexpected. It’s been hours since Loid left, and it’s almost dinner time.” Yor ponders, as her finger trails the telephone receiver. “He’s not picking up his office phone either.”

“Pa will be back!” Anya huffs from the sitting area, where her crayons are laid out on the coffee table. Her tongue is sticking out as she focuses on coloring the bookcase in Loid’s office. “He pinky swore.”

Yor smiles endearingly at Anya. “Well, let’s order some takeout in the meanwhile. We’ll order an extra portion for him since he’s been working so much.” _And because he would appreciate the extra protein._ Yor blushes as she remembers the lean stretches of muscle on Loid’s back and arms whenever his shirt stuck to his toned body, fresh out of the shower. She can almost smell his body wash.

An hour passes, and Yor is taking out their order from the paper bag, making sure to set Loid’s portion on the side. The doorbell rings again, and Yor makes her way to the apartment entrance. She opens the door to see two men she doesn’t recognize dressed in black suits and solemn expressions.

“Yor Forger?” The shorter man with the black hair inquires, hat in hand. Long eyelashes brim the bottom of his large half-lidded eyes.

“Yes? Can I help you, gentlemen?” Yor smiles sweetly as her fingers twitch in the case of action.

“We’re Loid Forger’s coworkers at the Berlint General Hospital,” the man standing on the right answers. A goatee and pair of circular glasses adorn his face with a set of shaggy blonde hair. His eyes were a colder shade of blue compared to Loid’s. “We’re sorry to inform you that Loid has passed away.”

“Oh God,” Yor quickly covers her mouth in shock. Her eyes watered. “Loid?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the man to the left solemnly nods. “No one saw it coming, but your husband was caught in an automobile accident on his way out the hospital.”

“Oh God, oh God,” Yor sobs out, hands held to her chest as she slumps over. It's getting harder to breathe. “Are you certain?”

“While the body is too damaged to be certain, there are several witnesses stating to have seen him leave the hospital and cross the street. His clothes also match with what we saw him wearing earlier,” the darker haired man states, his palm open.

“We’re sorry ma’am,” the blonde man said. “We didn’t know any other way to tell-“

“Mama! Who’s at the door? I’m hungry,” a voice chirps before Anya’s pink hair peeks out from behind Yor. Her eyes briefly pass over the men in black before looking at Yor with wide eyes. “Ma, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Anya tugs Yor’s dress.

“Oh, Anya!” Yor crumples to the floor and envelopes her daughter into a hug. “Anya, your father, he...he’s passed on.”

“Huh?” Anya’s eyes bulge out before staring back at the men in suspended disbelief. “He can’t be! He’s..he’s still here. I know it!”

 _Could he have possibly truly left?_ Doubt creeps into Anya’s heart. Her green eyes glistens lightly.

“Oh, Anya,” Yor gently pats the back of Anya’s head.

“She’s probably in a state of shock,” the blonde man kindly offers. “Children often need more time to acclimate in the instance of an unexpected tragedy.” _How strange, she’s not reacting as I would have predicted. Did I ever hint that I would leave the Forger household? That’s impossible, as Westalis’s best spy, there’s no way I would have made such a novice mistake._

Yor nods before gently nudging Anya–whose gaze quickly becomes fixated on the blonde man, back inside the apartment. “Anya, go ahead and play with Bond. I still need to speak with the nice men who took time from their day to come here.” The Ostanian woman turns her attention back to the two gentlemen still standing out front. She steadies her breathing and wipes away more tears before continuing. “I want to say thank you for coming over so late, even after a long day of work. I never got your names?”

“No, we should apologize for not introducing ourselves earlier, ma'am,” the dark-haired man hands Yor his business card before sliding the steel cardholder back into his back pocket. “My name is Evan Evenson, and my associate here is Lionel Lenney.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Lionel extends his business card. “If you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to call us. We’ll be taking our leave now.”

“Wait,” Yor says before Lionel and Evan could turn the other way. Something about Lionel’s cool blue eyes draw her in. She also wants to learn more about Loid, the man she’d lived with for the past year and whose past remains a mystery. Even if they were only married in appearance, it is still her duty as his widow to learn as much as she could of the man, at least for his child if he was no longer of this world. “It’s pretty late. Would you like to stay for dinner or a cup of coffee? I would love to hear more about Loid.” Yor offers, her eyes brimming red.

Lionel hesitates briefly before starting, “No, it’s quite alri-“

“We would love to!” Evan Evenson hastily interrupts, his faux somberness momentarily forgotten at the prospect of getting to know Yor and Twilight’s intimate relationship better. “Let us remember Loid in peace.” He clasps his hands in a saintly manner. _There’s no easier target than a weeping widow, hee hee._

* * *

“He was such a lady killer, real popular with the ladies at work. Wasn’t he a real smooth talker?” Evan affably asks as he elbows Lionel, who sat on his right.

“ _Franky, what are you trying to do? Blow our cover?? We were supposed to leave already!”_ Lionel whispers with fervor.

 _“Oh, come on, Twilight. After this, there won’t_ be _another opportunity. This is your last chance.”_ Evan–no, Franky, winks back and takes a sip of his coffee. Even acting as Lionel, Twilight can feel the onslaught of a headache.

“Ah, no, my husband was always a true gentleman.” Yor mentions, eyes lidded with a light blush covering her face. Her crying momentarily subsided. “He always knew what to say, and even when he was preoccupied with work, he always made sure to spend time with Anya.” The thought makes her eyes gloss with fresh tears.

“No smooth talking then?” Yor shakes her head. Evan’s interest peaks as he looks over at the thinly disguised Twilight, who looks uncomfortable. _Maybe I can learn a trick or two to seduce women from her experience with Twilight._ “Well, what _did_ he do for you?”

“Pardon?” Yor sets her cup of coffee down.

“I mean, what’d he do to win you?” Evan eggs Yor on.

Yor laughs as lightly and breathily as she could with a congested nasal, her eyes closed in memory of the good times. “When he had the chance, Loid would always take Anya and me to the opera or museum, or somewhere new. It was so much fun listening to him, especially since I didn’t have the chance to go to a lot of places when I was younger.” Yor’s thumb trails the rim of her cup. “While he was strict, he was also a good father to Anya...seeing him exhibit so much love and tenderness for her made me realize how lucky I was to have been married to him.”

“That’s quite beautiful, Mrs. Forger,” Evan sniffs as he rubs his eyes with his sleeve. “Sooo, will you be reverting back to your maiden na-gah, my foot!” Lionel inconspicuously sips his cup as Evan nurses his stabbed foot.

“Ah, Lionel,” Yor quickly diverts the spotlight, “You’ve been a bit quiet. Did you work closely with Loid?” She smiles at him.

“Occasionally. He spent most of his time on research.” Lionel pauses to add a bit more milk to his coffee. “He often mentioned his family,” he offers quietly, “About how proud he was of his wife and daughter.”

Yor blushes slightly. Even in her grief, she can’t shake the feeling Lionel and Loid are alike, despite how differently the feelings they emanated were. Yor nods for Lionel to continue.

“Sometimes, when he stayed in the office late, he would mention how much he missed his wife and daughter, how he wished he could spend more time with them. He truly did have you and Anya in his heart.” Lionel turns his head, the glare in his eyeglasses making it impossible to read his eyes.

“I see,” Yor sniffles. Her body shakes as she doubles over to contain her tears. After a moment, she wipes away her tears and gathers herself before straightening herself back up. “Lionel, Evan, as colleagues who have worked closely with Loid, you’re more than welcome to come visit at any time.” Yor’s eyes glisten as she tilts her head, strands of ebony gliding past her shoulder.

“That might be a bit difficult, but we’ll see if we can manage,” Evan responds softly.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to take a look at your daughter, if that’s alright.” Lionel shifts to leave his seat. “While it might not be of immense help, I do hope our profession can help alleviate the grief your daughter may face in the aftermath of Loid’s loss.”

“Yes, of course,” Yor gives a small hesitant smile. “I would truly appreciate it, and so would Loid if he was here.” Her eyes water again.

Lionel slowly makes his way to the coffee table where Anya is sitting with her crayons and papers, his gait less elegant than Loid’s.

“Hello there, you must be Anya,” Lionel bends down, “My name is Lionel. I worked with your father. What are you drawing?” He peeks at the drawing on the coffee table.

“Pa’s secret escape route.”

Twilight chokes on his spit. “Ex-excuse me?”

Lionel takes a closer look. _Impossible! That's my office! And the escape route behind the bookshelf! It can’t possibly be._ He needed to make sure.

“Pa’s secret escape route! It’s a super-duper secret spot where he works that lets him hear all the secret meetings in the hospital,” Anya openly gushes. Her eyes are two large crescents as she gives the smuggest grin Twilight has ever seen on his previous ward, much less a small child with supposedly little to no life experience. He feels a chill up his spine and begins to break into a cold sweat. _This doesn’t sound good._

“I see... and how about this one here?” Twilight tries to divert the topic from his spy work and slides another one of Anya’s drawings into view. “This one looks like a box. Perhaps a present? Haha...”

“Nope,” Anya says unabashed. “That’s Pa’s secret code transmission thingy. He can send codes to the enemy. And this one,” Anya grabs another drawing from the side, “is the enemy’s plan to use bomber dogs to ruin a peace meeting! Bond was a really brave spy, too. He saved me!”

 _Ho-how does she know everything?!!?!_ Twilight gulps as he felt his free time slipping away. Operation Strix was _not_ over.

“What an amazing imagination you have, haha....”

“I know a lot more,” Anya smirks, the slides of her mouth curling. “Ahh, I have so many ideas and so much free time! If only Pa was here to take me out and keep me busy. Ma and I will be soooo lonely.” Anya pretends to weep.

_Is...Is she blackmailing WISE?_

Lionel– no, Twilight, is at a complete loss. He is also terrified. How is it possible that a child around five years of age is privy to information top secret agents 10 times her senior has trouble obtaining?

_No, Twilight, calm down. She’s just a small child. She must have overheard or seen some things during her time with you. You just need to check in on her occasionally, to make sure none of the proverbial beans are spilled! Stay strong, this is for the sake of world peace._

“I see, haha.” Lionel dabs his forehead with his handkerchief. “You know, I just might have a weekend open.”

“Does this mean you’ll take Ma and me out?” Anya gasps. Without missing a beat, she jumps up and runs to Yor, “Ma! Uncle Lionel promised to take us out!”

 _“Leave? My butt! How’d you get yourself into this, Twilight?”_ Franky snickers. _“Weren’t you the one who said we needed to leave?”_

_“Shush, I’m doing this for world peace.”_

_“Riiight.”_ Franky raises an eyebrow as he smirks. _“Just make sure WISE doesn’t figure out what you’re trying to do.”_

_“Ugh, I’m serious!”_

“Oh, Anya, while that’s very kind of him, I’m sure he’s a very busy man,” Yor pats Anya’s cheeks before looking up at Lionel, “I’m sorry, Mr.Lenney, I’m sure Anya’s just starting to feel a bit lonely.”

“No, it’s perfectly fine.” Lionel brings a hand to his chest. His left eye twitches as he tries to smile. “If it means relieving the pain of even one child, I would be happy to help. And please, call me Lionel.”

“Well, if you’re certain...” Yor sounds a bit unsure.

“I’ll come by the following weekend. I think it’s time we left.” Lionel tips his trilby before turning to leave.

“Hey, wait for me!” Evans turns quickly to Yor and Anya and tips his hat as well. “It was very nice to meet Loid’s family. Sorry about your loss again.” The dark-haired man quickly skitters after the man with the shaggy blonde hair, their steps echoing down the hallway.


	3. Funeral Pt.1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Ostanian funeral traditions listed are inspired by Russian culture ....a.k.a. the first two links I clicked on after searching “Russian funeral traditions”...and then I went nuts with it and some parts of it are just straight up fooey.
> 
> I was rereading Chapter 30 for the umpteenth time and just realized Twilight really did undercover as someone named Lionel, a member of the National Defense Force, lol! I’m obsessed with this particular chapter, so I’m certain that I used the name subconsciously as a connection to our hero here. In case you’re curious about how Lionel Lenney looks like, think Twain Foney from Chapters 31-33 with a pair of circular glasses.
> 
> Published 10/05/2020

** Chapter 3: Funeral Pt.1 **

It is a strange thing for a man to witness his own funeral.

Soft, white flowers adorn the casket placed in the middle of the funeral hall. Specks of sunlight filtered by Autumn leaves stream down, as thin, white candles flicker around the room, illuminating the path encircling the big, black box.

Loid Forger’s body laid in the box, wrapped in white and tied with a belt. His face is obscured by a white sheet to shield the injuries he’s supposed to have sustained. A picture of his face is placed on the table next to the casket. The face is barer than any cover Twilight has previously undertaken.

The reality of a funeral held for someone of his exact likeness hits a bit too close to home, and Twilight isn’t sure what to make of the feeling.

Twilight stands in front of the casket, his eyes cool as he looks down at the casket with a detached gaze. The framed face continues to stare back at him with a warm smile.

Lionel stands where Twilight stood. Loid is in the casket. And while Twilight is certain the man in the picture was also some version of him, he seems different from how he remembered Loid in the midst of his performances. Patriarchal? Yes. Warm? No. Even to his trained eye, the man and the expression he wore are unfamiliar– foreign and alien.

Twilight doesn’t think about it any further because the feeling doesn’t sit well with him.

Loid Forger had no relatives. The few people who are able to attend the procession are the half a dozen or so colleagues he worked with, along with some civilian acquaintances. They slowly circle the casket counterclockwise, each dressed in dark, conservative clothing, some of them actually mourning.

Yor is speaking with her brother as she slowly glides around the casket, her long skirt a gray specter that flows behind her every step. Lionel’s gaze lingers on her. Even occupied with grief, she effortlessly pulls in his attention with her elegance. Her neck is lean and slender, and it contrasts well with her black top and even darker hair.

While her expression is sullen, Yuri’s can easily be construed as smug. With the decorated lapel, his navy suit is better suited for a celebration than a funeral.

 _If this operation hadn’t been decided by WISE, I would’ve thought he’d been the one to plan my death._ Lionel snorts before turning to look elsewhere. He doesn’t want the Briar siblings to feel the weight of his gaze.

Lionel isn’t sure where Yor got the funds (WISE wouldn’t waste their funds for a fake funeral of little to no consequence), but according to Franky, she had been adamant that Loid be given a proper funeral.

He frowns. Yor shouldn’t be wasting her savings on a funeral for a man who never existed. Anya is the one who deserves her full attention. Lionel ignores the thin stab of guilt as he continues to survey the proceeding, now walking in step with everyone else. He’s going to have to place a call with Handler to reimburse the young widow.

The one bright spot of color in the room comes from Anya’s pastel pink locks, tucked beneath her black beret. Becky Blackbell, dressed in a black dress adorned with a pearl brooch, is hugging her friend fiercely as she cries her condolences while Bond looks on. Lionel can almost see the air cut out from his previous ward as her face turns an alarming shade of blue.

Father or not, it is still his duty to protect every civilian, Lionel convinces himself before straightening his jacket and making his way over.

* * *

“Today, we are gathered here in remembrance of Loid Forger, a man who was committed to his family, his work, and his community.” Henry Henderson, the teacher who teaches Anya’s class at Eden Academy, addresses the room with somber gravitas. He had graciously offered his Saturday to help with the processions, on account of how much he admires Loid while the man was alive and begrudgingly adores Anya on some level.

“Per Mr. Franky’s suggestion to consider Mr. Forger’s Northern Ostanian origins,” Mr. Henderson motions to Franky, who nods in a saintly fashion, “we will now commence the last of the gift giving for the dearly departed, in which each of us will present one item Mr. Forger would likely need or appreciate in the afterlife.”

Lionel smirks on the inside. Unless someone unwrapped the cloth bindings, they would be none the wiser to Forger’s fake, gelatinous body. The funeral procession’s low attendance had WISE resort to more proportionate and affordable (and thereby, questionable) methods for conjuring Loid Forger’s corpse.

Lionel is absolutely certain no one would notice the bags of aspic tucked in the white bindings, every fake limb round and perfectly human-like.

Until the moment Yor brings forth a large steaming pot.

Lionel feels the color from his face drain as Yor lifts the lid and promptly spills the burning contents into the casket, positioned with one leg up as her body leaned in too much.

“Oh dear, that wasn’t supposed to happen!” Her expression is one of suspended surprise.

“What were you planning to do instead!?” Twilight’s cheeks hollow with horror– his cover momentarily forgotten. “His body is burning!” His fists begin to sweat and tighten as the funeral flowers he held drooped from the tension.

The fake body in the casket is going to melt and leak. Twilight just knows it. He hopes the plastic bags Loid Forger’s aspic limbs are stored in could at least withhold the heat for now.

_I don’t know how I’d ever explain it if green gelatin began to spill from my guts._

“I just wanted to prepare one last bowl for Loid!” Yor cries, as she desperately tries to scoop out the contents of the casket.

Twilight smells more than sees the fake gelatinous body melt and cook from the heat of the East Nielsburgen stew.

“Now, I’m sure Forger would appreciate the thought,” Yuri pats his sister and remarks, a little too quickly and enthusiastically. “My parting gift’s next! It’s the latest fad for funeral services that can ward off evil spirits.” He winks before plopping down his gift.

It takes Twilight half a second to realize the offering is a bit more insidious than what the younger Briar first suggested.

 _That’s a bomb!_ Twilight feels his soul drift from his mouth from the shock. _And he didn’t try to hide it with a gift wrap!_

The gadget plops innocently onto the body before it rolls off the white lump. Loid’s fake aspic body jiggles a little too severely.

“Oh dear, Mr. Forger really let himself go, didn’t he?” Some housewives whisper from the back. “You never would’ve guessed with the jackets he wore.”

Twilight wills himself to not correct them. There are more important things than vanity being his previous identity’s saving grace, he sniffs delicately, a tear forming in the corner of his eye. _All my hard work, gone to waste._ The blonde man feels a motion akin to a sympathetic pat on his leg from where Anya and Bond are standing, assuming the motion is from Bond’s tail.

As Franky approaches the casket, he pulls a bottle of Jack Daniels from his jacket and places it on top of the body. Twilight feels his jaw drop.

Was the man actively trying to ruin the reputation he painstakingly cultivated for the past year??

“He was quite the drinker,” Franky explains as the people around looks on with alarm. Lionel can hear Mr. Henderson’s monocle fall while Becky looks on with starry eyes (“So that’s what being an adult is like!”).

_That’s not helping, you twit! And you’re setting an awful example for children!_

“He’ll appreciate it.” Franky sounds pleased as he pats Loid’s body, the fake aspic body jiggling happily.

“Thank you, Franky,” Yor is the only one who seems to appreciate Franky’s unique gift. A tear specks her eye. “He’ll appreciate it with the stew.”

They share a moment before one of funeral attendees begins shouting in barely concealed horror.

“Dear god, is that dog doing what I think it’s doing?” One of the neighbors exclaims. Another one of the wives swoons, wrist to forehead, as her husband rushes to cushion her fall.

“No, Bond, don’t eat Papa!” Anya cries as she runs after the dog. “Bad Bond! I haven’t even given Papa my peanuts yet!”

“Worf!”

Twilight feels the last bit of his soul detach from his body, the funeral flowers in his hands crumpled and long forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any review or kudos would be greatly appreciated. They're fabulous encouragement! :)


	4. Funeral Pt.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published 10/05/2020

** Chapter 4: Funeral Pt.2 **

A selection of pancakes and miniature cakes are laid on the dining table as the Forger household’s guests mingle in the living room.

There are less people in the Forger apartment than there were in the funeral hall because the hospital (read: WISE) is short-staffed and Mr. Henderson’s profession won’t allow him or his students to stay out past a certain time, especially if he is in the vicinity.

The neighborhood wives are gushing over how cute the younger Briar sibling is just as the latter is gleaming intelligence. Forger’s death is proving to be the perfect opportunity for him to memorize the faces of those who are in Yor’s close proximity.

“Why am I still here? The procession’s already over.” Lionel asks as he plops down on the black leather cushion. The couch wasn’t designed for leisure, so he slouches forward, a plate of obligatory funeral cake on his lap.

“Cuz if I have to be here,” Franky pops a piece of cake into his mouth, “then so do you.” He chews a little too heartily for someone who’s just lost a dear friend, but Twilight doesn’t bring himself to correct his act.

It is comforting to see someone else acknowledge the ridiculousness of the situation: his funeral, while he is still alive and breathing.

The two of them sit side by side, making minimal conversation. They can’t risk making it seem like they know one another.

“I spy with my little eye, a mourning young lady I might have a chance with,” Franky says the moment he finished his cake. He brushes away the crumbs on his pants and readjusts his tie, not bothering to wipe the crumbs off his face. “And to you, Sir, I bid you an adieu.” He winks before rushing off to make conversation.

_Some things never change._

Lionel turns his head when he feels a familiar presence crawling up the side of the couch. Anya is staring at the floor, one hand clutching Agent Penguin, the other one now tugging his suit jacket.

“Uncle Lionel, will you really come back next week?”

Now that he wasn’t Loid, Twilight no longer feels the pressure to perform. But the part of him he cannot explain away still wants to please her.

Lionel sighs before giving the girl a small smile. “Yeah, I promised, didn’t I?”

Anya nods, her cheeks pink and lips pouting, as if unsure he is going to keep his word. “I miss you.”

“Already?” Lionel frowns. He hadn’t thought about how big of an impact Loid’s death would have on Anya emotionally.

_I thought we addressed the possible development of abandonment attachment issues. The stability of long-term shelter should pose no serious consequences and instead contribute to her long-term growth._

“Yeah, Pa promised to be back, too.”

_Oh._

On account of Anya’s young age, it should be a given that she is extra susceptible to her parents’ state of minds and conditions. Twilight needs to remember that unlike the childhood his circumstances had dictated, a child born outside of war requires things beyond permanent shelter and unexpired nourishment to thrive.

Anya looks up when she feels Loid patting her head. “If you study well and keep your mother company, I’ll take you to the amusement park the next time I come over. Can you take on this mission, Agent Anya?”

Anya bites her lips in light dread before giving a resolute nod, her evergreen eyes sparkling from the challenge. “Yes, sir!” Anya and Agent Penguin wave before embarking on their newest assignment.

“She seems so attached to you,” the sound of Yor’s voice drifts over. Lionel wills himself to not show his surprise at her sudden presence. Yor appears, one hand cupping her face as she slips into the sitting area. The other hand holds a plate of cake. “She usually stays away from strangers.”

Lionel chuckles lightly. “I’m glad that I’m able to relieve some of her grief at the very least. In our line of profession, it’s of the upmost importance to gain our clients’ trust.”

Yor blinks. “That’s what Loid would say whenever someone asked him about his work. It’s a fine and noble profession,” she agrees, nodding.

“Oh, is that so? It must be because we’ve worked together for so long.” Lionel breaks off a piece of cake. “How have you been adjusting?”

“I must confess, there are times when I miss Loid to an unbearable degree.” Yor smiles sadly and Lionel’s heart clenches. She prods her cake lightly. “Then there are times when I feel like I never really knew Loid.”

Lionel’s heart sinks a bit. _It’s because he was never real._

Yor continues, “I wish I learned more about him when I had the chance. I can’t stand the idea of Anya growing up without ever learning more about her father’s background.” Her eyes droop as she takes a small, unenthused bite.

Lionel chews his piece thoughtfully and swallows. “You’re already doing an amazing job, Mrs. Forger.”

“Please,” Yor’s cheeks pink, “call me Yor.”

They sit in quiet companionship, enjoying the civil tranquility of domestic life. Anya is playing Special Agent with Bond and Agent Penguin. Franky is barely keeping a conversation alive with the few available women who came to Loid’s funeral. Yuri is discussing the shops around the area with the neighborhood wives as their husbands talk amongst themselves.

Lionel is alarmed when he sees a droplet, then another droplet fall into Yor’s plate, the tip of her nose dripping as she faces her plate. “How am I ever supposed to tell Anya her father’s history when...when...” Her chest swells with emotion.

Lionel coughs loudly. “Excuse me, it seems I’ve choked on a piece of cake. I’ll be right back.” He throws his napkin on the coffee table before leaving for the bathroom, his chest hardening with guilt.

* * *

Twilight wants– _needs_ , to take a look at his reflection, a quick reminder that he is still alive and present and very much away from the big, black box back in the funeral hall.

His fingers curl around the black fabric that covers the mirror. He can see his belt. Ostanian funeral traditions dictate that all mirrors be covered for the three days following a death, lest the person who saw their reflection wanted to cross over as well.

Twilight feels his hands relax once the mirror is fully covered again. He leans over the sink. His back is hunched as he thinks of Anya growing up without him.

He feels nothing but regret– regret at having so readily retired Loid Forger, regret at no longer having the right to see the girl grow up, happy and secure with the knowledge that she was fully cared for.

When she is grown and walking down the aisle, will she think of him? Will she remember him with tears in her eyes, yearning for his presence, or would she remember him with disdain and regret, angry at having placed her trust in him so easily?

Anya is young and underdeveloped for her age– in terms of height and cognitive ability, assuming she’s actually six years old. She shouldn’t lose one of the few people she has grown attached to, especially after four adoptions (four separate traumas), in addition to the other experiences she might have had at the orphanage he found her in.

Then there’s Yor, with whom he is now mourning the loss of a future with. She would grow old, hair long and gray like silk, by the side of a man who is not him and surrounded by children he had no relations with. She would always question who Loid Forger really was, haunted by the unquenchable suspicion that she never fully provided Anya with everything her adopted daughter needed.

He took a year of her life away, made her commit to the role of a mother to a daughter she had no connections with. It is simply not possible for a person to regain a year they have lost. That was a year she could have spent looking for love elsewhere– form a genuine connection with a real Ostanian man and embark on the first steps of creating an actual family. Twilight knows her brother is more than capable of protecting her if people become suspicious of her status as an unmarried woman in her late 20s. She never needed him as much as he needed her.

Twilight feels like human garbage for having used Anya and Yor, even though he knows he has treated countless others the same, if not worse, before meeting them.

Now, it is too late for Loid Forger to come back from the grave.

Now, Twilight cannot risk the future of the world for the feelings of one family when he has already made the first sacrifice.

WISE had asked him for Loid Forger's life, and he had presented the head on a silver platter. What a fool he's been.

The man steadies his breathing; straightens his lapel and regains his posture. He pats his goatee and musses his hair once more for good measure.

He will see to it that Mission Strix remains an unknown success; feelings be damned.

* * *

Lionel emerges from the restroom to find Yor waiting outside for him. He’s not surprised. Having lived with the Ostanian woman, he’s able to recognize the motions of her stride from anywhere, even in the adjacent room if her steps are loud enough.

“Lionel, I must apologize for what I said before.” Her breathing is unsteady. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Her face is flushed. Lionel doesn’t want to think she looks delectable.

But he can’t find it in himself to leave her alone, when it is so obvious she is suffering and reeling from the shock of Loid’s death.

So he takes her into his arms, his chin pressed against her head as her body trembles with grief. He feels her arms wrap around him.

He can feel the tremors of two people arriving around the corner. The vibrations of their high-pitched tones tell him they are the type of people he does not want to meet at that moment.

It happens in slow motion for him, his fingers clasping her wrist as he pulls the both of them into the closest room– her room, the moment two of the neighborhood wives turn the corner and enter the hall the bathroom is in.

Loid Forger might have been dead, but Yor still has a reputation to maintain.

Twilight cannot allow Yor to be entrenched in rumors of infidelity. That would put her in danger– danger of being ostracized; danger of being unmarriable; danger of being interrogated at a place that does not allow children.

Even if Yuri is capable of protecting Yor, the young man does not feel the same for Anya. 

One of Lionel’s arms continues to hold Yor, the other is still on the doorknob. The door is cool and hard against his back. His heart is beating from the previous action as he tries to ignore how soft she is.

She’s stopped crying, and Lionel can see her ears burning scarlet.

Their close proximity makes him blush, a rare feat when it comes to interactions with the opposite sex.

His neck brushes her skin as he continues to hold her, careful that she’s not discomforted by the scruff of his chin. Her neck is as smooth as he’s always imagined it to be.

He wants to feel his hands through the translucent material of her clothes. His hands trail up the cuff of Yor’s sleeves until his arms are brushing past her breasts and wrapping around her waist. Her back is curved and pressed against his chest.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Lionel breathes into her neck, reveling in her shudder while she’s still relaxed into him. He closes his eyes, enjoying her warmth and softness. Then he opens them again, eyes intent and fully knowing, “Mrs. Forger.”

He feels her tense under his arms before she takes an immediate step away and turns around, her expression pained and scarlet. Her face is caught between a smile and a grimace, and she feels like such a fool.

“I think it’s time you left, Lionel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any review or kudos would be greatly appreciated. They're fabulous encouragement! :)


	5. In Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my life now: writing fan fiction and waiting for the next Spy x Family chapter to come out. Oh, and the anime that’ll come out....in 2022 earliest, lol.  
> Published 10/12/2020

** Chapter 5: In Waiting **

Handler is not pleased. Twilight knows this by the tick in her expression.

Sylvia sits cross-legged, leaning against her desk. She presses a well-manicured finger to the side of her face while her remaining digits conceal her lips. Her skin is pale under the fluorescent lights, as her cold, blue eyes are thinly veiled by a pair of spectacles. She glowers up at Twilight from beneath the wide brimmed hat.

“So you’re telling me that Anya Forger has sensitive information that should have been entirely confidential to WISE,” the blonde woman says– not asking.

Twilight nods as he stands before her, his leather dress shoes dark and still on top of the scratched linoleum floors. In the background, he can hear the ping-ding-rings of typewriters and codes being delivered and deciphered, as the room’s other occupants scuttle around with time-sensitive information. They are situated in one of the more deeply seated rooms of the building, disguised as an exclusive salon by one of Berlint’s most deserted intersections. The smells of coffee and overworked researchers permeate around him.

“I suspect the Forger daughter was exposed to sensitive information during the time my missions increased in urgency and frequency,” Twilight says calmly. “It was carelessness on my part.”

“Well, at least you managed to gauge her knowledge during your previous visit,” Sylvia sighs as she interlaces her fingers beneath her chin. “While I’m certain there are additional methods available to take care of this problem, we would prefer no casualties in resolving this issue, seeing how Yor Forger has connections to an SSS counterintelligence officer.”

“No escalation of the situation will be needed,” Twilight immediately replies, his voice steady, “I will take responsibility by continuing to observe the Forger household.”

“Twilight,” Sylvia’s lips purse into a small frown, a little disappointed in her top agent, “I thought you were more logical than this. There’s a large chance your cover will be exposed. We need to bring in another agent to observe the remaining Forger household. Agent Nightfall would be ideal in this case.”

“I digress,” the blond man replies, a hint of steel in his voice. His leather gloves scrunch and stress at the seams. “Anya Forger is known for her unpredictability. Send me. I have spent the past year observing her and will know if she will betray our cover.”

Sylvia looks even more unamused, her red lips now set in a deep frown. “Twilight, Agent Nightfall will take over. You are needed elsewhere.” Her voice is humorless and does not allow room for further objections. She hands the man a folder with his newest assignment. End of discussion.

Twilight wills himself to stay quiet and nods. Handler made a solid argument that hammered in the notion to keep a low profile.

He swallows thickly, “Now that I have the details of my next mission, I’ll be taking my leave now.” He swiftly turns around, navigating past unkempt desks and WISE intelligence officers and makes his way back into the concrete hallway.

 _This is deeply troubling_ , Sylvia thinks to herself as she swivels her chair around, keeping her expression private from the rest of the room. _We’re starting to lose Agent Twilight to the other side._

* * *

Twilight’s footsteps echo down the hallway as he makes his way toward the elevator. A trail of eyes follows his every move.

“Oh wow, it’s Twilight! He just passed our room,” A female underling gushes, gaping over the stack of paper on her desk. “I heard his last assignment finally ended.”

“Ohh, you mean as the hot dad?” Another intelligence employee laughs as they twirl a pencil. Their voice is deep and flirty. “Think we might have a shot?”

“Fat chance,” a disinterested male voice calls out from behind, his voice gruff and specked with prolonged cigarette use, “I heard from the agents who attended the funeral that his ex-wife’s gorgeous.”

“Hmph, I bet I’m sooo much cuter!” The first voice counters, tinged with girlish pride.

“Don’t even think about it, you know how WISE feels about relationships with agents,” a husky, womanly voice chipped in. “Plus, that man is so frigid outside his missions, I doubt he’s even interested in real relationships.”

Twilight pretends he doesn’t hear the conversation from the hall as he steps into the elevator. There are more pressing matters to think about than what others thought of him. He turns around so he’s facing the long, sterile corridor as the doors close, his eyes set and determined with the knowledge of what he needs to do.

_Looks like I’m taking this into my own hands now._

* * *

The charred slab sizzles and crackles in the pan. Yor continues to look on, her eyes glossy and not fully present.

 _How is Anya going to grow up not knowing who her father really was?_ The thought surfaced recurrently.

For the week following Loid’s funeral, Yor’s regret for not learning more of the man ebbed and waned.

Anya deserves a real mother, one that Loid would have been happy to share his life–his past, with.

Yor has no right to take the place of another woman, much less a dead woman who spent the time changing diapers; feeding and waking up in the middle of the night– a woman who held Anya in the midst of nightmares and lightning storms. Now, Yor is taking over the fun portion of raising a child, the part that can make anyone brim with envy as she teaches Anya her local culture and values; as she teaches her addition and the names of all the different zoo animals.

“Mama, the pancakes are burning!” Anya’s voice snaps Yor out of her reverie. She hadn’t noticed the girl entering the kitchen.

“Oh dear, the eggs are ruined.” The slab crumbles as Yor begins to scrape it off the black pan.

“When is Uncle Lionel coming?” Anya gazes up at Yor with expectant eyes. She shuffles her pink slippers shyly. “He said he’d come take us to the amusement park today.”

Yor feels a brief sadness at the thought of disappointing the little girl. “Anya, I’m not sure if Lionel will be coming today.” _Especially after what happened on the day of Loid’s funeral._

“Huh? What happened?” Anya’s eyebrows furrows, “I’ve been a good girl! I made sure!” Anya looks heartbroken. Her green eyes are watering, as her lips pucker and tremble. _Are promises meant to be broken and never kept?_

“Lionel’s busy... Come on, it’ll be fun! Think of it as some quality girls’ time!” Yor pumps her fists, trying to excite Anya.

Instead, Anya deflates further upon hearing Yor’s answer. “So Uncle Lionel really won’t be with us…” Bond whines from behind Anya.

Yor tries not to be hurt by Anya’s disappointment. The girl has every right to ask for love and attention.

But the idea that Anya wants a father figure doesn’t sit well with Yor. It makes her feel inadequate– makes her feel small by the idea that she can’t measure up to the love of two parents.

Another part of Yor feels silly and knows she is taking the situation too personally, but the hurt is still very real. The woman is doing the best she can to fulfill the small girl’s needs, even if she seems to be failing immensely. Yor can only hope she can provide for Anya as well as she did for Yuri.

“Well, I’ll try calling him,” Yor relents as she walks to where the telephone sat, taking out her little book of contacts from the drawer under it. “If he’s not able, I’ll call Yuri and see if he can make it.” As she takes in Anya’s hopeful expression through the kitchen archway, she sincerely hopes Yuri would be available for the girl’s sake.

She tucks her finger into the numbered loops and enters Lionel’s digits on the rotary, each entry making the clear plastic swivel back and forth. She dreads the possibility of the man picking up; of hearing his smooth voice– the way that would make her heart beat even more; the way it would remind her of Loid’s voice. She dreads admitting she needs his help and would very much appreciate it if he could come back.

“Hello, Lenney household,” a dry female voice greeted. Yor’s shoulders slump a bit from the unexpected voice. She’s not sure if she’s feeling relief or disappointment.

“Hi, this is Yor Forger. I’m looking for Lionel. Is there any chance he might be there?”

A pause. “No, I’m afraid not. Would you like to leave a message for him?”

“Yes,” Yor takes in a deep breath as her finger wounds the telephone cord tightly, “Please let him know that I’ll be taking Anya to the amusement park with my brother today. We appreciate the gesture but also understand if he’s busy and would rather spend the day with his...wife.” Yor’s tone flattens at the last word, as the air leaves her lungs.

“Wife?” The woman on the other end splutters before gathering herself and ending the call, “Yes, of course. Have a nice day.”

 _What a drole man, to think he was married!_ Yor harumphs as she put the receiver down, the hard plastic clacking loudly against the base. Yor feels a little played with as she unwittingly recalls the feel of his arms around her waist and the way his warmth lingered for hours after he left the apartment.

 _I feel nothing for the man_ , Yor denies as she enters her brother’s number. _I’m only flustered because no one has ever touched me like that before, not even Loid._

And that was true. Even in the year following the Forgers’ faux marriage agreement, Loid had always been the picture of a perfect gentleman. He kept his distance from her and his touches– innocuous as they were, never lasted for more than a few seconds. The few times she caught glimpses of his inner workings had been in situations where Anya’s safety was at risk, when his candid reactions bespoke a more serious and cunning person.

She shudders. _Now is not the time to question the sincerity of a man that has since passed_ , Yor thinks as she glances at the picture-perfect couple hanging on the wall, feeling a tremor of loss and what-could-have-been.

When Yor finishes her second call, she is satisfied with the knowledge that Yuri is indeed available and more than willing to accompany the mother-daughter duo at the amusement park. She marches back into the kitchen, intent on frying a second batch of eggs. She’s suddenly motivated by the desire to make it the most fulfilling day ever for Anya, with or without Lionel.


	6. Carousel Pt.1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published 10/12/2020

** Chapter 6: Carousel Pt.1 **

The smell of warm pretzels and cotton candy waft through the cool, crisp air. Screams roar from the roller coasters surrounding the park while light amusement park music tinkled from the speakers. The rows of trees separating the theme park sections were turning a bright, vibrant red. Up ahead, Twilight sees a Ferris wheel rotate clockwise in idle fashion against the backdrop of the big, blue sky.

 _“I hope you know what you’re doing, Twilight. This is supposed to be my mission,”_ Nightfall codes as the duo walks through the amusement park. Her lavender hair and beige coat flap against the Autumn wind while the park’s visitors circulate around them.

 _“And it still is,”_ Twilight replies, trying to placate the woman. He can feel the wind tussling his hair extensions. He pats his brown trilby. _“It’ll be suspicious if Lionel never showed up after his promise. This can help ease the transitioning process so the subjects will become more relaxed around your cover,”_ Twilight reasons as he surveys the premise.

 _“I trust you are using your best judgement,”_ Nightfall states impassively.

 _“It’s a shame we weren’t able to catch them at the Forger residence,”_ Twilight frowns. He’s not used to feeling unprepared. _“They should’ve called to let us know.”_

 _“Intel states that there’s a high probability Yuri Briar will be accompanying the Forgers,”_ Nightfall provides. Her cool eyes run across the crowds of children and couples until she finds herself staring at Twilight.

His gaze lingers on a balloon vendor situated by the food stands.

An image of Anya’s delighted face inexplicably crosses his mind.

 _“That’s quite brilliant,”_ Nightfall says as she glances between Twilight and the vendor, quick and eager to assume she knows the man’s mind, _“Giving the Forger girl a red balloon would allow us to keep better sight of her.”_

Twilight clears his throat, _“Yes, precisely,”_ responding as if that was the exact thought he had.

He quickly pays for the balloon before his sharp eyes catch silky black tresses flowing in the wind, attached to a figure that made his heart beat a little faster.

“There they are, by the booths.” He smooths the green argyle sweater beneath his trench coat before sliding into character.

* * *

“Yor! Anya!” Lionel waves and jogs up to them, a red balloon dangling upwards from his hand. Fiona is close behind, walking at a slower pace. “Nobody was home, so I thought you guys came here.”

“Lionel, you’re here,” Yor says with soft surprise. The hand holding her pocketbook tightens a fraction when she sees Fiona. “And so is Fiona. Hello, there.”

Yor feels an uncharacteristic drop of suspicion. _Was she the one who picked up the phone this morning?_

“Hello, Mrs. Forger,” Fiona nods when she catches up to the group. Her ringless left hand clasps a square, black handbag.

“Uncle Lionel, you did show up!” Anya had let go of Yor’s hand upon Lionel’s appearance and is now running towards the blond man. The ribbons from her navy dress wisp behind her as her Mary Janes pitter-patter across the concrete walkway. She hugs his leg and presses her face against his beige slacks.

“I promised, didn’t I?” Lionel leans down and looks Anya at eye level, “I bought you a balloon.”

Anya beams. _I knew it, Pa’s still Pa after all._

“Ah, I invited Fiona with us, I hope you don’t mind,” Lionel gives Yor a small lopsided grin, “I thought we could both provide answers for any questions you might have about Loid, if not just to enjoy the fall weather together.”

“Thank you,” Yor responds politely before turning to Anya, “and what should you be saying to the nice man who gave you the balloon?”

“Thank you, Uncle Lionel,” Anya chirps in sing-song fashion. Yor pats her head tenderly.

Fiona lets the moment pass before mentioning Yuri’s absence, “I thought your brother would be joining you.”

“Yes, we just got here.” Yor looks toward the entrance of the theme park’s Kiddie Zone and waves, a soft smile spreading on her face. “Oh, there he is, the one in the black peacoat.”

* * *

The group of five walk around the park. Yor and Anya are holding hands in the front, as the shiny, red balloon bobs happily behind them. Rather than extracting information from Anya, it appears Fiona is far more interested in directing the conversation towards Loid.

Lionel tries not to frown at his previous student while he walks in tandem with Yuri. He glances at the black-haired man. He still needs to see if Briar junior gained any information from Anya.

“So you must be Yuri,” Lionel starts, “Loid used to mention how close you and your sister are.”

“I can imagine,” Yuri says dryly. He eyes the taller man critically, “You look alarmingly like Forger.”

“So I do,” Lionel says, “Our colleagues would say the same, too bad I’ve never been married. I never would’ve imagined how cute his daugh-”

Yuri promptly interrupts Lionel by spluttering and pointing at the blond man. “Aha!”

“Aha…what?” Lionel is taken aback.

“You’re after my sister now!” Yuri loudly accuses– all sense and reason thrown out the window when the topic pertained to his one remaining relative. A few people around the immediate area are beginning to look at the two men. “You’re using your similarity to Forger to take my sister for yourself, like the beast that you are. You can’t fool these eagle eyes!” Yuri dabs two fingers between his ruby eyes and Lionel.

Twilight fights against the urge to be sarcastic.

“I can assure you that is not the case,” Lionel responds plainly with a deadpan expression. He is eager to deescalate the situation and keep attention away from himself. He continues to walk after the group of three, seeking refuge away from the curious eyes.

“Then what’d you do to her?”

“Excuse me?” Lionel stops in his tracks when he notices Yuri had stopped a few steps back. Fiona’s voice is becoming increasingly incoherent as the women walk further away.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t do anything wrong! Yor cried when you left on the day of Forger’s funeral,” Yuri grits out. His hands are fisted, and his face is shadowed with dark emotion. He looks more serious than Twilight has ever seen him.

“I apologize, I do believe my tendency to lend an empathetic ear is a deeply-rooted habit not uncommon to my profession as a therapist,” Lionel replies good naturedly, taking a step back as the shorter man stalks up to him, “I can assure you, I did nothing unseem-”

“I don’t care! You made her cry!” Yuri spat out, his nose pointed and body well within the bounds of Lionel’s personal space. The younger man tries to ignore how nice the other man smelled. He continues to stretch his spine and stick out his chest in a poor attempt to intimidate Lionel, who just happens to be taller and more built.

“She was still reeling from Loid’s death,” Lionel frowns. There is no need to beat around the bush of Loid Forger’s death with this man. “As someone who works with families, I can say that it’s great that she can turn to you for support.”

Yuri ignores the last bit; he’s heard that from Forger before. It didn’t matter how much honey the man spouted when Forger and his sister were still married a year after the obsidian-haired man discovered their matrimony.

“You look like a Casanova,” Yuri pokes a finger into Lionel’s chest, his upper lip tutted out in a way he intended to be domineering (it isn’t, it makes him look like a buffoon), “Don’t get any funny ideas about making a move on Yor. I got my eyes on you.”

Lionel thinks the younger Briar sibling looks more like a delinquent schoolboy than an SSS counterintelligence officer capable of stopping the entire operation (and possibly ending his entire career by extension) but wisely keeps the opinion to himself.

Lionel gives the younger man a submissive smile, the expression more muted than Loid’s. “I would never think it, I give you my word.” He holds his right arm to his chest in true gentleman fashion.

_What a pain in the butt. Can’t someone just seduce him already and keep him busy?_

* * *

The two men quickly rejoins the group lined in front of the spinning teacup ride. Rose-tinted panels loom over the set, filtering everyone and the floral tea set a light pink. Anya runs up to the first available teacup she sees, sitting down and leaving room for Yor and one other person to join her. Her feet dangles from the plastic seat.

“Sorry, we kept you waiting, Yor. _Someone_ slowed us down.” Yuri shoots Lionel a snide look, as he gives the ride attendant his ticket. Fiona’s expression sours from the snub.

“Yuri,” Yor gasps at his rudeness from her seat, “Be nice. Lionel was kind enough to spend his day off with us.”

 _“Fiona, I need you to gauge how much Yuri knows. Can you do that?”_ Lionel whispers as he slides into a separate teacup with the lavender-haired woman.

 _“Affirmative.”_ Fiona’s face relaxes back into a neutral expression when she secures herself next to Lionel.

The cups slowly circle around the giant teapot in the center of the ride. As it gains momentum, the teacups begin rotating, faster and faster, until the surrounding visitors and attractions wisp into one uninterrupted and unending roll.

Anya’s delighted laughter chimes with the machine’s cheerful melody.

* * *

The group is now lined up on the queue for the carousel. Anya is teetering with excitement as she looks at the shiny ceramic animals and gilded seats. Her red balloon floats above her head as the wind calmed.

Fiona turns toward Yor. “Mrs.Forger, I’m thinking of getting refreshments for the group. Might you be interested?”

Before Yor could reply, the younger Briar volunteers on her behalf. “I’ll go! Lemonade with a dash of seltzer, I know how she likes it!”

_Perfect._

“Thank you, Yuri. Can you also get a small cup of hot chocolate for Anya?” Yor smiles sweetly, as Anya’s hand dangles from hers.

“I can do that,” Fiona quickly offers, stealing a glance at Lionel as she turns away.

“I’ll do it, I insist!” Yuri smiles with fake geniality, one corner twitching, as he brusquely follows the woman to the food stands. It’s not that he _wants_ to turn this into a competition, it’s that he _needs_ to if he wants to please and impress his older sister.

Yor cups the side of her face as she looks at Fiona and Yuri’s receding figures. “I hope Yuri doesn’t overdo it.”

“It’s great that you guys have one another to support,” Lionel comments kindly. “I’m almost a little envious of your relationship.”

Yor’s eyes widens a fraction. _That sounds like something Loid would say._

Lionel continues, “Though I can’t imagine it being easy to date.” His mouth curves downwards.

Before Yor can give a proper reply, Anya yelps with surprise. A strong gust of wind had brushed through the area.

“My balloon!” Anya cries as the wind picked it up. Before Lionel can tell her to stay put, she’s running after the ball of plastic-wrapped helium.

Without another second to lose, Yor swiftly runs after the girl, her heels clacking and hair streaked silver by the sun in the sky. For a moment, Lionel’s breath stops, and he sees her in slow motion. The Ostanian woman leaps through the air, her red skirt fluttering freely behind her as she stretches her arm up, slender fingers wrapping around the string in quick succession. She tugs back the balloon and lands in one swoop, like grace incarnate, wings forgotten.

Lionel isn’t prone to staring, but he can admire the shapeliness of her legs in black tights. And apparently, he isn’t the only one.

A man is approaching Yor just as she returns the wayward balloon to Anya. He’s quite handsome, Lionel thinks to himself from afar, with his wavy blond hair and slender nose.

However, even knowing the man is relaxed in all the ways that leaves him susceptible to attack doesn’t relieve the tense muscles in Lionel’s shoulders. He doesn’t want the man to approach Yor. He doesn’t even want him to consider talking to her.

Lionel has half the mind to intervene, but he stops himself before he takes one step away from the queue. This isn’t something he should involve himself with. For all he knows, Yor wants to start a new relationship– one built on trust and no hidden identities. This could be the beginning of something new for her.

Jealous as he is, Lionel wants Yor to be happy and loved.

Yet, something doesn’t sit right the longer Lionel observes them. Anya is upset now. She’s shouting at the man while Yor is getting flustered, whether it be from anger or discomfort.

Without a second thought, Lionel steps off the queue and marches toward the trio, his stride wide and resolute.

* * *

“Hey there, ladies,” the man tucked in the black polyester windbreaker greets. He twirls a round lollipop between two fingers as his large drooping eyes took Yor in appreciatively.

“Yes, could I help you?” Yor looks at the man quizzically, holding Anya’s small hand.

“How about a date, Sweetheart?” The man winks at Yor. He tucks a strand of wavy blond hair behind his ear, confident and handsome.

“I am not your sweetheart, and I am with my family,” Yor states, clearly displeased with the deep frown on her face.

“Ma’s taken,” Anya mentions pointedly before leaving with the woman, heading back to the carousel where Lionel is.

“Come now, that can’t be true. She’s way too young to be your ‘ma’,” the man heckles as he quickly steps in front of them. The carousel stands behind him.

Yor immediately stops, “It’s true, I am happily married with my daughter’s father,” her breath momentarily hitching from the white lie.

The man snickers. “Well, where’s Mister? Come on, this definitely ain’t your kid! You guys don’t even look alike, and you ain’t even got a ring.” He points at the both of them with his lollipop.

Yor feels the veins in her hands pop as she controls the urge to punch him. She feels more inclined to punch the man than she has anyone else in recent memory. Anya is on the verge of tears when she spots Lionel coming over, a dark shadow looming over his face as he becomes increasingly aware of what is going on.

“What are you doing?” Lionel demands, his voice low and husky. He steps between the man and his family, acting as an impenetrable shield.

“Woah, there,” the stranger holds his hands up, taking a small step back, “I’m just trying to know the pretty lady better. I don’t see a pretty ring on her finger or anything.”

“Ma doesn’t need a ring cuz she got a side piece,” Anya boldly states, her head sticking out from behind Lionel’s legs, “And he’s right here!”

“Side...piece?” The stranger looks as confused as Lionel feels. _Clearly, she’s joking from the stress of it all._

“And I’m not joking!” Anya huffs, sticking her tongue out.

“Anya, don’t be ridiculous,” Yor reasons, abashed and horrified at her daughter’s behavior, “Lionel and I are not like that.”

“Side piece,” Lionel states one more, testing the word.

Anya pouts her lips, starting to feel annoyed. _Geez, for such a cool liar, Papa’s so thick when it comes to Mama!_

“Side piece!” Anya nods with conviction, her eyes aflame. She stares at Lionel from below and wills herself to transmit the tension and seriousness of the situation with her large, green eyes and angry eyebrows.

Wait, was he the side piece??

Twilight feels so objectified– so used, even if the situation calls for it.

He swallows his pride, and with as much gravitas he could muster, states, “Yes, that’s me, the side piece,” choking the last part out, tilting his trilby down to cover his growing blush.

The man opposite him is speechless. To think a grown man would ever publicly declare himself the side piece to a married woman! That’s an affair even he wouldn’t touch.

“Whatever, you guys deserve each other,” he scoffs in distaste and walks off. There are other ladies to pick up around here. “Unbelievable, I’m not messing with that.”

Lionel can hear Yor sigh with relief as Anya tugs his leg.

“Don’t worry, Uncle Lionel,” Anya conspicuously winks at him with a thumbs up, “You’re actually the whole meal.” From the corner of his eyes, he can see smoke coming from Yor’s flushed face.

 _Where is she learning these terms? Is she learning them from her friend, Becky??_ Twilight dreads the thought of Anya growing up so quickly.

In the distance, Lionel can hear a splash of liquids and the crinkle of plastic. Dark vibes emanate from the direction where the food stands are located. He could feel the stab of a thousand proverbial daggers from one overprotective Briar sibling.

_Crap._

In a jilted fashion, Lionel reluctantly turns his head towards Yuri, whose face is now tomato red. His eyes are watering and glistening, the specks in each red orb wavering. He wobbles over in his lemonade-soaked coat and pants, looking heartbroken and betrayed (and piss-stricken). From behind Yuri, Fiona had stopped walking and is now observing the situation.

“Yor,” Yuri squeezes out, his pitch strangled as snot drips from his nose, “how are you moving so fast? I was going to make sure the next one was perfect every step of the way!”

“Yu-Yuri! Lionel was just trying to help,” Yor blushes fiercely, as she waves her hands. “Look at you, you’re soaked! Let’s get you cleaned up.” She brought out her handkerchief to dab his face.

On some level, Lionel did feel sorry for the man, whose 20 years meant he was still very much just a boy who loves his sister a bit too ardently.

Lionel extends his own handkerchief, to which the younger man immediately slaps away, his eyes blazing. The blond man tries to contain his surprise.

“Don’t you dare pity me,” the Ostanian man loudly states, as he pulls Yor to him, his left arm around her waist. People are beginning to give them curious looks again, including Anya, who looks just as stunned. “I don’t care if you’ve caught feelings for my sister, but don’t think I’ll just stand idly by and allow you take her!”

“Yuri, I’m a grown woman,” Yor pulls herself away, slightly annoyed and more than a little embarrassed, “I can make my own decisions, and I’ll date whoever I want!”

Yuri feels the air leave his lungs and the wind pass through his soul. His sister had never been this vocal about her love life. _Does this mean that she actually likes this Lionel fellow? That she wants to get involved with him? That I should get ready to call him brother?_

Yuri’s feet wobbles against the concrete ground; even if the world around him remained solid and unchanged, it feels like his personal world is shrinking and contorting in ways he didn’t know was possible. Could he allow himself to let her go?

Fiona unfreezes from her place, pity briefly flashing through her eyes. She still has a mission to complete, so she steps forward, ever ready.

“Mr.Briar, might I offer you a ride home?” Fiona speaks, and before anyone could object, “It would be of no trouble to me.”

Above her, the sky stretched orange. Days in October run short.

“I would like that,” Yuri looks to the side, shoulders slumped. He feels tired, and his pants are beginning to stick to him more uncomfortably with each passing minute.

 _“Thank you,”_ Lionel mouths to Fiona, who nods.

“Yuri,” Yor hugs her brother, careful of her strength. “I promise to tell you the next time I start dating someone.” She smiles shyly up at him. He’s so important to her.

Yuri hugs her back, “Yeah, you better.”

* * *

Yor and Lionel are leaning against the rail as they wave at Anya, who is happily riding a white ceramic Pegasus.

“Thank you for saving us earlier,” Yor speaks up first, “and I’m sorry about…this, about taking away the time you should be spending time with your wife.” Yor spoke the last bit pointedly as she quickly looks away.

“My...wife?” Lionel sounds genuinely confused.

“Well, who else could’ve picked up your landline earlier?” Yor turns back, a pout on her lips.

Lionel tries to hide his surprise. He was not notified of any calls that came into WISE from the Forger household.

When Lionel provided Yor with his business card, the number was meant to link her to WISE under the pretense of his personal number, in the case she ever needed anything.

“Oh, you mean, the landlady?” He chuckles, trying to alleviate Yor’s suspicion and misunderstanding by quickly pivoting to a more manageable lie, “I asked her to keep an eye on the phone while I went to work. I was waiting for your call.”

He’s deeply unsettled by the idea that WISE omitted to tell him that Yor had called.

 _Did Fiona know and not inform me?_ An alarm rings in the back of his mind. _I might need to reconsider another form of communication._

Yor nods but still looks unsatisfied. Lionel can’t help but notice the way she nibbles her bottom lip, the way the sliver of white teeth sunk into the pink flesh.

“It looks like something else is on your mind.”

“It’s…its nothing,” Yor pushes herself away from the railing. “I shouldn’t be imposing any further.”

“Yor, you’re no bother,” he gives her a reassuring grin, “I insist.” His undivided attention and blue eyes focus on her.

“It’s about Loid’s passing again,” Yor says, her voice a little less shaky than it was at the funeral. “I can’t help but think that I am taking the place of another woman, someone that Anya can truly call mother. All the fun things, like taking her to the zoo and holding her small hands or having her call me ‘Ma’ and gift me Mother’s Day cards, it all feels so… undeserved.” She is gazing at some place far in the distance where Lionel is not.

Lionel takes a few seconds to think before responding. “It’s okay to not compare yourself to Anya’s mother, or any other woman for that matter.” He tucks his hands into his pockets, keeping them warm. “Anya needs you now more than ever. Rest assured, you are her mother, Yor.”

Yor nodded, feeling somewhat reassured by the figure next to her. “You might be giving me too much credit, Lionel.”

“You’re already doing so much. From the way Anya and Yuri look at you, anyone can tell they love and care for you deeply.” Lionel smiles softly, his eyes warm like the blue of...

“Lionel, who exactly are you?” Yor frowns, her chest gripping with pain and suspicion. “You come out of nowhere after Loid passes– looking like him, feeling like him, caring about us, and yet… and yet, a part of me believes you are one and the same.” Yor’s lips presses into a frown as her breathing deepens.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Lionel responds with a half-hearted smile, his hand itching for the cigarette in his jacket. “Maybe I just have a thing for young widows.”

_This should drive her away._

Without his defense, Lionel is partly at a loss for words.

As Loid, he put on an act: warm, sensitive, and anything someone would expect of the perfect family man, but as Lionel, he was free to be whoever he wanted to be without the fear of failing a mission or jeopardizing neighborly relations. In other words, he's more real than he’d ever been, and yet, this woman thinks he and Loid were the same.

_Have I truly lost my touch?_

“I feel like you care more about Anya more than you show.” Yor steadily stares at the blond man. “Why is it that you care so much?”

“Because that’s what Loid would have wanted. It’s just that simple,” Lionel shrugs, his hands by his side, feeling the loss of warmth. “And I’m sure he would’ve done the same for me had I been in his position.”

Yor’s ears perk. “How about your family?”

“None,” Lionel gives her a dampened smile. Yor feels her heartstrings get pulled.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” Yor wrings her hands, before clearing her throat. “The ride’s ending. I think it’s time we go back.”


	7. Carousel Pt.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a crazy few months, but thanks to a little nudge, I'm back on track! Most of the plot has been outlined, so we should be reaching the halfway point soon.
> 
> Thanks so much for all the kudos and encouragement, everyone! It really helps keep me on track and brightens my day.
> 
> Also, all previous chapters have been edited to keep past-present tenses more consistent.
> 
> Uploaded: 2/10/2021

** Chapter 7: Carousel Pt.2 **

Anya feels dread, a type of dread children should never feel.

The horse she sits on is galloping and prancing its way around the carousel, but she does not find joy in its machinations when she cannot see Mama nor Papa. With every rotation, she feels herself closer to tears. Is Pa still going to be there the next time she passes by? Would he keep his promise to not leave?

Anya tightens her grip around the golden pole as her vision blurs with warm tears. An unfortunate and undeserved thought appears in her mind: _your existence is worthless and unwanted_. There is no telling what Loid would do, if he would even stay for the girl. Now that his mission was over, she’s _useless_.

* * *

When the carousel slows to a halt, Yor and Lionel is waiting by the exit. Girls and boys of varying heights and locks make their way past the ride’s entrance, but none of their noggins were pink nor horned. The two frown and quickly make their way to the carousel. When Yor sees Anya, she runs to the young girl, her black heels clicking behind her, against the cobble pavement. The ebony-haired woman’s hands are around the girl’s jacket as soon as she reached her. Yor’s ruby eyes survey the child, intent on finding the cause of her tears.

“Anya, what’s wrong?” Yor asks, alarmed, “Is it because you couldn’t get off the ride?”

Anya’s Mary Janes dangle from her elevated position. Yor quickly cradles the young girl and makes her way to the entrance, where Lionel stands waiting. “There, there. This should be better now.”

Yor is patting her head, but the pink-haired girl does not stop crying. Yor and Lionel exchange worried looks while Anya hiccups and rubs her nose pink.

“I... I got scared.” Anya croaks out, her throat sore and nose stuffed. “I don’t want Papa to leave us again.”

Lionel feels his insides constrict.

“Oh, Anya,” Yor coos as she swaddles the girl beneath her chin, her eyes shining and sorry. The woman sorely wishes she has the ability to protect Anya from every kind of pain. “Loid might not be with us anymore, but that doesn’t mean he’ll leave us as long as we have him in our hearts.”

 _Poor girl_ , Yor thinks to herself, _she still doesn’t realize Loid isn’t returning._

“No,” Anya squeezes out from her throat, “That, no, I mean…” Anya desperately wants to clear up the misunderstanding, but the words to express herself were out of reach.

Anya’s throat constricts and aches from the sheer frustration of hearing Yor’s thought, which feels like an unjust accusation– one the young girl could neither clear nor defend against.

Anya _hates_ her inability to do anything.

“Mama, you don’t understand!” Anya wails out, her arms flailing against Yor. “I want Papa! I want a papa!” Hot, angry tears freely fall and glide down her cheeks. Anya is now kicking in Yor’s unwavering arms, as the Ostanian woman stares with wide almond eyes. Anya’s navy-blue dress shifts and folds with every twist and turn.

“A papa...” Yor forces herself to breathe again, as she balances Anya between her arms, careful to keep her head out of way.

“Papa! Anya wants a papa!” Anya wails and repeats. Yor looks more lost and hopeless by the second.

Lionel is at a loss of what to do. His hands are frozen, and he isn’t sure what to do with them. He stands completely still by the two Forgers, dumbfounded and only mildly aware of the surrounding guests stopping to stare. He’s known Anya for at least a year now, and he’s seen her through her moods and tantrums, and he knows she’s adjusting– _reeling­,_ from Loid’s loss.

He knows, he knows, he knows, but knowing doesn’t lessen the guilt he feels. Knowing doesn’t make things right.

The people he’s lived with for the past year are hurting, and it’s because of _him_. If only they _knew_. They would despise him like they should, for taking away a year of their lives; for fooling them; for making a joke of their feelings. If only they _know_.

Yor looks like she’s on the verge of crying now, as Anya becomes increasingly incoherent while being held in the Ostanian woman’s arms.

Lionel has half the mind to acknowledge the people who are stopping and staring, but the other half–the one Twilight has long persuaded himself to have disappeared, is hurting and shouting at him to do _something­–anything_.

So against all reason, Lionel steps forth and hugs the two, his hands and arms awkward and warm.

They fit oddly in his chest. One of Anya’s shoes is digging into his abdomen, and Yor’s left shoulder is leaning oddly against his collarbone. He can feel the heat from their faces under his chin. One of his hands is cradling Anya’s head while the other one rests lightly over Yor’s back.

Anya’s crying is reducing to deep breaths and occasional coughs, while Yor’s tense shoulders are slowly relaxing. They smell good– _like home_ , Lionel thinks to himself as he continues to stay in place for a few more moments. He tries not to lean into the hug too much. He can’t allow himself to be too comfortable, not when there is danger and eyes lurking all around. Once he’s certain the crowd has passed and Anya is calm and Yor is ready to face the world again, Lionel slowly removes himself. He tries not to think about how cold he suddenly feels, as the autumn wind brushes pass his open chest.

“I apologize, Mrs.Forger, Anya,” Lionel isn’t sure whether to direct his eyes toward a point far into the distance or Yor’s flushed face. He’s afraid he’ll let something slip if he focuses on the latter. “I’m not sure what came over me, and I’m certain that was incredibly unwel--”

“--Thank you, Lionel, and it’s Yor, not Mrs.Forger,” Yor breathes out before Lionel can finish his sentence. Her smile is warm and shy, as her eyes shimmer with relief and appreciation. “Thank you...I think we both needed that.”

Yor’s gaze turns toward Anya, who is now quietly hanging onto her coat with a forlorn expression. She gently dabs the girl’s tears with a clean napkin taken from her purse, “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Anya admits, face still pink and a little sticky. She stares at her shoes as they dangle above the ground from Yor’s hold. “Mama?”

“Yes, Anya?”

“I miss Papa.”

“I may not have the ability to fill the void Loid left,” Yor swallows the lump in her throat, as she gingerly brushes back a strand of Anya’s hair, “but we’re family, and I’ll never leave you. I promise you, Anya.” She gently presses a kiss to Anya’s temple, still a little warm and wet.

“I love you, Mama, I really, really do,” Anya sniffles, as she curls deeper into Yor.

“I know, Mama loves you very much as well,” Yor smiles and pats the girl’s back before tightening her free hand into a grip, her eyes resolute and determined now that her composure has returned. “It might take some time, but I’ll… I’ll do my best to find you a papa!”

Lionel would have been alarmed at the proclamation, if not for Yor’s reddening ears.

 _It’s good to see her feeling better_ , Lionel thinks to himself with amusement, even if a part of him is deeply discomforted.

Lionel quickly clears his throat before guiding the mother-daughter duo to the next area with a well-placed hand, his palm warm and familiar against Yor’s back. Yor’s head tilts toward him as she relaxes under the touch. “Anya, we should go on one more ride. How does the Ferris Wheel sound?”

Anya’s mouth gapes in wonder as she turns her heard to look up at the giant amusement rotating across the sky. The specks in her green eyes twinkle with curious delight as they shift between emotions.

* * *

Lionel feels relief when he sees the bright smile on Anya’s face. Her expression is full of wonder as she presses her face and palms against the window. The carriage inches higher and higher into the rose-orange sky. Lionel cannot help but sigh slightly, away from the prying eyes and ears of any organized faction. It’s fleeting, but it’s still a moment of reprieve.

He slumps back into his seat before lifting his gaze to the woman who sits across from him. She’s trying to detract her gaze from the window, but her gaze keeps returning to the window and what lays outside their compartment.

 _She spent so much of her time caring for Yuri. This is probably the first time she’s been in a Ferris wheel, just like Anya._ A warm feeling crawls into Lionel’s chest as he notices the pink tinge in Yor’s face. A smile spreads on Yor’s face when the compartment is at a more exciting distance away from the ground.

A chuckle reverberates through the blond man’s chest before he’s even aware of it. Yor quickly looks at him, mouth agape and expression flashing between indignation and abashment. Lionel quickly covers his mouth with a leather-clad finger before giving a faux cough, careful to not show his amusement too easily.

“It’s rude to laugh at another’s expense,” Yor quips pointedly, her lips pursed as she turns her face away from him. She can only hope he won’t notice her cheeks burning under the orange sunlight. “Though, based on your previous examples of bravery and gallantry,” Yor peeks over at the man in faux contemplation, her eyelashes fluttering slightly, “I suppose I can let it slide.”

Lionel doesn’t miss a beat, “That wasn’t my intention, I assure you, Kind and Generous Madam. Seeing you and Anya enjoy yourselves is enjoyable in itself.” He smiles good-naturedly.

“There are other ways to be entertained.”

“Just like there are other ways to...find ‘a papa?’”

Yor quickly turns her head back to Lionel, mouth open in ladylike shock, when the words catch in her throat. The man is wearing a teasing smile. She flushes from the way the sun paints his hair orange, the way it lights the specks in his eyes grey and orange against the muted blue. Try as she might to hide her embarrassment, she knows from the contracted irises of his eyes that it’s a losing battle.

“That might be for the best,” Yor’s voice wavers a little. She hopes the light from the setting sun is camouflaging her flush. “I’m not familiar with how the dating scene is like nowadays, but I think the first step is getting to know more people.”

“I see,” Lionel rubs his goatee in fake contemplation. He’s having so much fun, he doesn't want to stop the conversation. “It sure is a shame since I know at least one gentleman who might be interested.”

At that moment, Anya looks up, her green eyes perfectly large and doe-like– the picture of unbridled young innocence. “Like Uncle Lionel?”

“Anya!”

“Well, a bit direct, aren’t we?” Lionel grins lopsidedly at Anya.

“Lionel,” A worried expression adorns Yor’s face. “You’ve already done more than you need to for us, I really don’t want to keep bothering you…”

“Yor, you should know by now what my answer is.” He gives her a small smile as his eyes twinkled warm blue. “I’ve grown attached to you and young Anya. I can’t make any promises…”

Upon seeing Yor’s shoulders sag slightly, the blond man leans forward and reaches for Yor’s hand as her black hair shined orange. His hand is large and warm against the back of her smaller, cooler one. “…but I can assure you, I’ll try my best to make time.” His hand gives hers a light squeeze, as his thumb rubs against hers.

**Author's Note:**

> Any review or kudos would be greatly appreciated. They're fabulous encouragement! :)


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